#personal para

“Once upon a time, in a land not far from where we are now, a brave wizard named Regulus Black, was captured! He’d been taken in by a band of terrible witches and wizards, all of them eager to stake their claim on his head! For you see, a mighty but terrible tyrant of a wizard had deemed him a traitor! Regulus Black had turned his back on the very faction of magic users that had spurred him on to his own greatness. It was with them that he found a deeper power, albeit it a darker power. For months, if not years, Regulus allowed it to consume him. It was the reason for his very being. He, Regulus Black, would be feared, he would make a name for himself, he would stand above all of magic kind. Those with little power, no power, those who were born from muggles were to fear him.

Where: The Black House When: Early Evening Who: Celeste, Adrian & Regulus ( @the-defected-one) I briefly wrote as Regulus again because that’s just what was in my head? Will never say that I write him as beautifully or as well as you...

"Father, there's a woman for you at the door..." Adrian said as he slipped back into the sitting room. "A pretty woman," he added.

Regulus glanced over at Mave in his brief confusion, noting the way her eyebrow cocked. "The only pretty woman that I know is your mother...and even then she's beautiful!' he announced, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek before he rose to his feet and followed his son back to the front door.

He stopped short. The blue eyes and blonde curls were unmistakable now. He'd missed it at first because she hadn't recoiled from him the moment she'd seen him in her shop. Out of habit, his upper lip curled into a sneer —  he watched as an amused smile lit her own features as she noticed his reaction. His face quickly became expressionless.

"Muh-" the word almost escaped his lips. Had he ever called her by her name? Surely he'd used it before but...he glanced down at his son who was studying both of them curiously.

"It's small," Celeste said, fingers pulling at the tape that held the brown paper around the frame.

Adrian leaned in curiously, his interest in the word that had died on his father's lips was replaced. "What is it?" he breathed, trying to peek around the paper as she pulled it off. "Look, father, look!" Adrian exclaimed excitedly once the paper had fallen, "It's Kreacher!" he grinned in delight as he looked back at his father when he spoke. "It looks just like him!" Adrian giggled happily.

Celeste smiled warmly at Adrian’s reaction to the painting. She hadn’t met him yet, but it was obvious who he was with the way Mave spoke of him. He looked so much like his father...it was almost a little strange to see someone that looked like a young Regulus look so happy.

“Did you paint this?” Adrian asked his attention on Celeste now. His gaze flickered down to the painting of the curmudgeonly old House Elf. His fingers almost skimmed over the face of the painting, but he pulled them back before they did. “It’s beautiful!” he announced. “I mean, as close as Kreacher could be to being beautiful!” he giggled again.

Mave downed another shot and closed her eyes. She could feel the alcohol as its warmth blossomed in her chest, crawling down the rest of her body. Why had she agreed to it in the first place? There was no reason she should have ever had to come out from behind her drums. She wouldn't have except Alexander and Falcon had written a love song, and while Alexander would have happily sung it with Nova, they'd insisted that she sing it instead. Mave had given in to their request — she knew neither of them would stop asking until she did, especially Alexander. There was also some curiosity as to what it would be like to perform with Nova. 

She and Nova had rehearsed, they knew the lyrics, they had the timing and yet, that hadn't stopped her from messing up. It was evident that Nova had a different sort of energy when he performed. She'd seen him like that before, but it was something else entirely to be the one performing alongside him. Somewhere in the middle of it all, when she'd looked at him under the bright stage lights, his hand slipping into her own, he seemed to shine just as bright as they did.

That's when she missed her verse, the moment her heart skipped a beat. Nova seemed to have sensed the shift, and he rapped the beginning to her part with a few modifications to the lyrics. He ended it with a gentle squeeze to her hand letting her know he was passing the song back to her. She released his hand, holding it made her feel breathless. Moving upstage, a surge of butterflies filled her stomach leaving her feeling as though she were singing the words to Nova instead of with Nova.

Alexander and Falcon had been impressed at the sudden adaptation of the song. Thankfully all of Alexander's talking on the drive back to the house had kept her from having to speak at all. The eldest DuMont was managing to gush over Nova enough for the both of them. 

Back at the house, they'd shared a celebratory drink. It'd been their largest audience yet (admittedly, Nova had been the cause for that).   Afterward, Falcon had excused himself, it'd been a late night already, and he had a test in the morning. Nova left for the bathroom and Mave had been left alone with Alexander whose curious look managed to get under her skin. "Stagefright," he'd said, though she understood he believed otherwise. He'd given her his usual grin before announcing he was going to get his notebook; he wanted to get Nova's version of the lyrics written down.

“Ma petite étoile, are you alright in there?” Gerard rapped softly on the bathroom door. Celeste had been in there a while. She'd opened the door briefly after entering to make sure he had meant to hand her what was tucked away in the pastel pink box. Gerard had reassured her, and she'd vanished back inside. His question greeted by silence, he made to knock again when the door opened. Instinctively, he stepped back, allowing Celeste room, "Are you—" his voice fell silent as Celeste emerged. 

The outfit hugged her slender body, stretching, moving with her as she walked out of the bathroom. She'd traded in her breezy, summery makeup for something darker to match her new outfit. Celeste seemed to exude a new sense of confidence as she gave Gerard a sultry stare.

The older man laughed, more out of surprise than anything else. He was used the young blonde being bright and bubbly. Her current outfit seemed to have brought a shift of attitude. Her familiar blue eyes now seemed icy as she studied him through her lashes, lips pursed along with her judgemental stare.

"What's so funny?" Celeste asked. Her usual curious tone traded itself for something more challenging. Her question came with a tap on his chest with her riding crop. "Get on the bed!" she ordered, the crop flashing as she gestured across the room.

Gerard's lips twisted and pulled but he managed to suppress his grin. She almost seemed to be a bit of a sexual deviant dressed like this. He was far more accustomed to the way she curled up against his side, ran her fingers over his arm in simple patterns. In those moments she always gave him a look he found to be rather curious; it always seemed like she was asking permission to kiss him.

Following Celeste's order, Gerard lay back on his bed. He had no pleasure in being dominated, but he was interested in seeing where the usually demure young woman would take things. His smile toyed on his lips as he watched her move to the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off of the way her hips swayed. He would indulge her for a few more minutes, but then he had every intention of giving his present to her a new home on the floor.

The bed shifted beneath her weight as she crawled on top of Gerard, one hand placed on either side of his head. Her curls spilled past her shoulders, nose bumping against his jaw before her lips brushed against his ear, "I want to play with you," the words buzzed on her lips, a hand now trailing over his chest.

That was it. Gerard released a loud laugh, his hands moving to grab Celeste's hips, suddenly pulling her into him. He had some idea of what she was trying to achieve, but something about her comment seemed more endearing than sexual. After all, she was his petite étoile, a role like this wasn't meant for her.

“Morning, Rosie Posie,” Ruben grinned, flopping into the chair across from the other demon. Rosalie sneered at the use of the nickname; His smile widened.

Dark eyes narrowed at Ruben, no doubt he was already contemplating which of her buttons to push. So few creatures wormed their way under her skin — the self-aggrandizing bastard in front of her was reigning champion.

"It is one in the afternoon, My Love," she responded testily, lips curling into a cruel smile.

His wrist twisted upward, gaze falling on the smooth expanse of skin as though he were checking a watch. "Ah, so it is, My Love!" he mocked. "I had an appointment that was far more interesting." Still smiling, Ruben leaned across the table. "You've got a little something just..." his thumb swiped at her lower lip. The red mark came away clean. It was tacky but — "Frosting?" his brow furrowed giving Rosalie a puzzled look. In all honesty, he'd been expecting blood; there was a part of him that was relieved it wasn't what he thought it'd been. The sickeningly sweet smell had given it away.

Rosalie waved her hand at the crumb-filled plate sitting in front of her. "Cupcake," she said as though it were obvious. "One must keep up appearances,"

"Then might I suggest not nibbling on the humans?" His teasing earned him a darker look. This one silenced him until he dared to ask why she'd sent that shadow of hers to summon him.

Her elbow rested on the edge of the table, chin in hand, "He has a name, Ruben," Rosalie reminded him. Admittedly it was rare for a shapeshifter to take a name, much less work for a demon. Rosalie was all Ivan had at this point.

Ruben stared her down. He had no intention of saying Ivan's name.

"Shame," she sighed, "and he likes you so much," Ivan's interest in Ruben puzzled Rosalie but the shifter was allowed to do as he pleased. "He insisted he be the one to fetch you," she admitted her free hand trailing through the air dismissing the thought. Rosalie had no intention of telling Ruben that Ivan had been there at the cafe before the demon had even seen the young witch. "You'll make him cry!" she laughed.

"I'll send him tissues for Christmas," Ruben offered, still waiting for Rosalie to answer why he was there.

Her cruel smirk lifted her lips, "Is it so unbelievable that I just wanted to check in on you?" she asked. The silence that hung between the two of them answered her question; Yes, it was. "I desired to make sure you were fairing well...after your little witch started making playdates with others of our sort."

His little witch. Did she mean Mave? Ruben almost broke out into a laugh. If Mave had heard Rosalie referring to her as his, she'd undoubtedly throw a fit. The only thing that kept him from that was the remark that followed that statement.

He didn't know Mave to be an idiot, able to handle things on her own, she wouldn't summon demons without reason — and some part of him felt possessive. If the young witch was looking to summon a demon, it should be him. They had a history after all, why not reach out to him?

If Ruben were surprised by the information, it didn't show, he looked to be more in a state of disbelief. Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, she waited for him to put the few pieces she'd offered up, together.

The demons! He'd laughed at Mave's paranoia. Demons were demons if they were following her around they had a reason. These demons had the most unfortunate reason; they worked for Rosalie. How else would she know he'd met up with Mave? How did she know where to send Ivan...unless. Mave was a dead man walking. The look on Rosalie's face told him that she knew what he was thinking.

"She is a cautious sort, especially when it comes to our kind." Rosalie's gaze fell to the table. Ivan's natural form, as Ruben had referred to him was, in fact, a shadow. He was a creature with no face or figure of his own. "No one thinks to check their own shadow, do they?" she mused.

If Mave was summoning other demons, there was nothing he could do for her. If it had been a lesser demon, he might have humored her. Meddling in Rosalie's affairs didn't even make it on the bottom of the list of things he wanted to do.

"Now, now, Darling," Rosalie purred. She'd been watching his face as he ran through things in his head. "I'm not here to take away your plaything," she reassured him. Most would say you couldn't take a demon at their word, but Rosalie was unabashed when it came to the truth. She'd tell you precisely what she was thinking; there was nothing you could do concerning what she devised. "We all need something to keep us entertained."

It was Ruben's turn to narrow his eyes. "Then what is this about, Rosalie?" he asked forcefully. He opted for using her full name. She might have been honest with him, but she was still pussyfooting around. If Rosalie had taken an interest in Mave, there was nothing he could do. He wasn't attached to the witch so much as he was their dealings. Mave was always ready to ask the extreme and never hesitated to uphold her end of the bargain; it was tiring hunting down humans who believed they could escape their contract.

"I believe you know him?" Rosalie murmured sliding a small image of a smiling boy across the table.

"And if I do?" he grunted. Count on Rosalie to answer his question but keep it on her terms. She wasn't one to hand over the reins, preferring to remain in control. The picture Rosalie had produced, Ruben knew both the boy in the image and from where she'd stolen it. He had been the reason Mave had formerly summoned him. "Your little shadow should return that to her locket before she finds it missing," he added, he wasn't going to allow Rosalie to steer the entire conversation; that was difficult since he was still in the dark.

Rosalie studied him through her lashes. Mave had initially summoned Ruben with the intention of bringing Damien back to life — she had stopped herself from making that contract. It turned out to be for the best, Ruben never would have found Damien anyways. He wasn't dead. "What if she found him instead?"

He stared at her blankly. "Maybe you should stay away from cupcakes, Rosie Posie," he sighed lumbering to his feet, the use of her nickname was his way of signaling that the conversation was over. "He's dead, and unless she's about to off herself or strike up a deal..." he rolled his shoulders. "Not my business."

"Your witch is smart, Ruben," Rosalie spoke again, though the teasing note she'd carried in her voice during their conversation was suddenly absent. She sat back in her seat, "Too many demons are getting lazy, not reading the fine print on their contracts." Their eyes locked. "All those little missing demons..." her finger tapped in rhythm to her words. "Her doing, every one of them. Failure to comply with the stipulations of their contract in the allotted time." Rosalie smiled up at Ruben. "I like her," she admitted. "She made me curious, so I looked into things — it was best that I did. No demon can complete what she's asking of them." Her finger fell on the edge of the picture, pushing it further across the table towards Ruben. "He's not dead."

Ruben froze, he now understood Rosalie's buildup to the moment. Reaching out, he picked up the small image, examining the face smiling up at him. "How?"

She was sweet that summer

@obliviia

Where: Slytherin Female Dorm When: At Night Who: Mave & Regulus(ish) @the-defected-one